


everyone is bi in the sky

by vands88



Category: Campaign: Skyjacks (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Rough Sex, Travis Being a Dick, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vands88/pseuds/vands88
Summary: Collection of fills from the ospnkinkmeme, requests, & other bits and pieces... but for Skyjacks this time.Ships & ratings & word count in chapter titles. Prompts & warnings (if any) at the start of each chapter.





	1. Panic Attack - Dref/Gable/Travis + Jonnit - G - 1400

**Author's Note:**

> the collection title is stolen shamelessly from [coaster](http://coasterchild.tumblr.com/post/182216211622/iamalivenow-upon-relistening-to-episode-1-gable) who reblogged something from me, like, a month ago, with a comment which has now become my personal motto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for two prompts on the kinkmeme:
> 
> 1) "Dref has one of his usual freakouts about gore or danger or (apparently) life in general and one of the crew helps him calm down again."
> 
> 2) "I just need more Gable/Travis/Dref content PLEASE. I have no idea what situation would result in them cuddling but I neeeeeeeed it."

“Dref’s having a panic attack again,” Gable says in a monotone as they hover above Travis’s hammock with their arms folded and a stern look upon their face.

Travis puts aside his book, unable to read the small print under Gable’s shadow anyway. He sighs dramatically. “Dref is _always_ having a panic attack. It’s his primary state of being. I’ll bring him down some tea... you know, eventually.”

Gable shakes their head. “It’s a bad one, Travis.”

Travis rolls his eyes and wishes himself back to five minutes ago when he was having a nice, quiet, evening to himself, with no vengeful fallen angels calling him to action. He looks back up at all seven-foot of Gable and begrudgingly accepts that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

Travis sighs - loud and long - just so Gable will know how put-out he is, and what a great person he is for putting aside his time like this, and rolls out of his hammock to make the tea.

-

Jonnit is lying facedown in the hull with his best buddy, Mickey, peering between the crates for the stray mice he's meant to be catching, when an ominous shadow befalls them.

“Holy s- Gable!” he exclaims as the cat squeaks and runs away in fear. Jonnit rolls onto his back to look at the intruder. “You scared away the mice! Now we’ll have to start all over again!”

Gable folds their arms, unimpressed. “You’re doing Mickey’s job again?”

“I’m just helping him out!” Jonnit says in the cat’s defence. “He gets scared if there’s too many of them!”

Jonnit scrambles to his feet ‘cos now the mice game is over, he’s feeling kinda peckish and if he goes to the kitchen then they can use the crumbs as bait again…

“Dref had a panic attack.”

Jonnit groans, “Aw man, _again_?”

“It was a bad one.”

“Like Goopening-bad?”

“Like post-Civility bad.”

Jonnit chuckles as he remembers that clusterfuck of a mission, “Oh man, that _was_ a bad one.”

Gable glares, obviously not pleased that Jonnit is finding this so funny.

“Alright, alright,” Jonnit says in defeat. “I’ll raid the kitchen.”

-

Gable returns to the captain’s quarters to find Dref still huddled on the floor against the desk where they left him. He’s a sweaty, shaking mess, wrapped tightly in the blanket that Gable tucked around him before leaving.

“You l-left,” he accuses weakly.

“I know, I’m sorry," Gable says sincerely. "I’m back now. How you doing buddy?”

Dref’s teeth chatter as he shakes his head. “N-not g-g-good.”

Gable frowns, assessing the situation, and then, before they can talk themselves out of it, strides across the room to scoop up the blanket bundle in their arms. Dref squeaks and wriggles amidst the tangle of blankets but hasn’t managed to articulate a single word of protest before Gable has successfully sat down, Dref and his blankets still cradled in Gable’s arms.

Dref’s head emerges from the blankets in a flurry and looks at Gable with mussed hair, all confused and indignant.

“Touch,” Gable explains, “it seemed to help you last time.”

“Last t-time,” Dref says, still gasping for air much too deep and much too quick, “It w-was T-t-travis. He w-was j-just a r-rabbit in m-my arms. D-d-different.”

Gable shrugs, and wraps their arms tighter around Dref, pulling him flush against their chest. Despite his objections, the contact seems to almost immediately calm Dref’s shudders. He whines a little - either in objection, or in pleasure - and curls a little into the warmth of Gable’s chest.

“O-okay,” Dref murmurs a little while later, as Gable’s large palms start stroking his back in a comforting gesture. “You w-w-win.”

Gable smiles softly down at him, but before they can analyse exactly why that is, the cabin door is suddenly thrust open with a bang, and both of them jump a mile.

Jonnit stands in the doorway, proudly presenting a brown paper bag before him.

“J-jonnit?” Dref murmurs in confusion from his blanket cocoon.

“Snacks! I bought snacks! For blood sugar! Snacks!”

Gable tiredly raises a hand and gestures for the kid to calm down; his enthusiasm is cute but entirely unwarranted (as it is in almost every situation). “Thank you, Jonnit.”

Jonnit throws the bag at a startled Dref before running out the door again - “I’m gonna get Mickey!” he shouts as he’s leaving.

“Close the…door,” Gable trails off upon realising that Jonnit is now well out of earshot. “Never mind,” they mutter, plucking the bag out of Dref’s hands instead. “Hmmm,” Gable says, inspecting the contents. “Chocolate… Chocolate will do.” Gable extracts the lump of chocolate and drops it into Dref’s still-cradled hands. “Eat,” they order, and then discard the rest of the bag beside them.

Dref looks down at the food with suspicion; he’s obviously about to argue - despite Gable literally just following his own previous medical advice - when a cleared throat catches their attention from the open doorway.

Travis gestures to the open door with tired disdain, “Jonnit, I presume?”

Gable nods, and Travis - someone who thankfully does understand basic courtesy - enters and closes the door firmly behind him.

“I made herbal tea,” Travis introduces, kneeling down to push the filled cup into Dref’s unoccupied hand. “It’s my favourite blend. You’d better not waste it.”

Gable glares meaningfully at Travis, “He _means_  that you’d better drink it for your _health_ because we _care_ about you.”

“Is that not what I said?” Travis says innocently, as he climbs over Gable’s leg and into the blanket fort, with only mild complaining from Dref as he shuffles over to make room.

“Really, Travis?” Gable says in disbelief as another fully grown man settles between their legs, squishing a bewildered Dref between them.

“I agree this was an easier manoeuvre as a rabbit, but I need to maintain my position,” he says nonchalantly. He bends down to take a hands-free bite of Dref’s chocolate that was lying in his outstretched hand as if to prove his point about prime location.

Gable gives up on Travis and nudges Dref instead, “Drink. Eat. You’ll feel better after.”

Dref nods solemnly, as if the simple task of nourishment is a grand feat. Gable frowns. They have no experience of this. But Dref once said that as horrible as the attacks were, it was trying to function afterwards when he was weak and exhausted, that was the hardest of all. Gable reaches down and places their hand over Dref’s on the mug and helps raise it to his lips. “Drink,” they prompt, and it feels like a victory when he finally does.

Dref has one sip, then another, and then he’s demolishing the food like a starving man. Gable can literally see the colour returning to his cheeks with each bite. Gable breathes a sigh of relief and their arms tighten instinctively around him. These fragile little human bodies need protecting, Dref most of all.

Travis yawns from the other side of Dref, using it as an excuse to snuggle closer now that the cup has been pushed aside.

“Y-you’re r-right,” Dref says meekly, his hand falling atop of Travis’s head, “that w-was g-g-good tea.”

Travis smirks and stretches into the touch like a cat in sunlight. “Told you,” he says, but the pleasure of Dref stroking his hair takes any heat out of the sentence that might otherwise have been there. Gable can’t resist brushing their legs together to thank him for not being a total ass this time. Travis sighs in happiness and seems to snuggle even deeper into the cuddle pile.

Gable closes their eyes for a minute, revelling in the warmth and comfort and the (even more unusual) silence that’s been bestowed upon them. Dref’s breathing has returned to normal. Travis seems appeased for once in his damn life. And Dref’s little hand has come to rest upon Gable’s bracketing thigh in a silent thank you, the thumb drawing ever so slight circles against the fabric. Gable sighs in blissful happiness. Everything is good and peaceful in the world...

Until the cabin door is thrust open, banging loudly against the wall, and a cold front of air swoops in, as something - alive and moving - is thrown into the fray. Travis screams. Gable jumps to their feet. Dref tumbles to the floor.

“CAT!” Jonnit declares from the doorway, as Mickey lands with a startled meow on the abandoned blankets where the three of them were napping not moments ago.

Gable glares at the empty doorway where Jonnit used to stand and hears the tell-tell signs of Dref’s rapid breathing beside them, signalling yet another panic attack. “Dammit, Jonnit!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & Smithybadger made some [awesome art](https://ospnkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1764.html?thread=103908#cmt103908) for this! Thank you! :D :D :D


	2. Dirty Talk - Dref/Travis - E - 900

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt on the kinkmeme - 
> 
> "Against all odds, Dref is sleeping with someone, probably on the regular, (I'm partial to Travis in this situation, but go wild) and whoever it is absolutely loves to hear that timid voice of his saying filthy things. I'm imagining he's nervous and awkward about it at first, but slowly starts to enjoy it."
> 
> not strictly non-con or anything, but Travis is an egotistical dick so bear that in mind

"C-can you...?" Dref whispers one time, "I like it w-w-when y-you..."

Travis's hips stutter mid-movement. His mouth hangs agape. Dref never speaks when they're doing this. Never. It's like some unspoken rule they have - meet in the captain's cabin at sunrise after the goopening, fuck each other's brains out, go about their day - there hasn't been talking since they first set up this arrangement. Travis also didn't realise that he would find it so damn _hot_.

"What?" Travis breathes, looking down at Dref's sweaty body and messy hair and red-flushed cheeks. "What can I..." and holy moly, he needs to remember to _breathe_. "What can I do for you?"

Dref whines and turns a deeper shade of red.

"Hey, hey, no, I want to know," Travis murmurs before Dref gets too embarrassed to speak. He leans down to whisper in his ear, and starts up his movements again as encouragement, "Tell me what you want."

Dref makes a kinda strangled noise and hooks his leg around Travis to pull him closer. "T-touch," he says, and Travis is hanging on to every single word like its gospel, "my n-nipple. I like it w-w-when you t-twist my n-nipple."

Travis groans loudly and indecently before he can stop himself. He never thought he'd hear sweet, sweet, Dref say the word "nipple" in his _life_.

"Yeah?" Travis murmurs, one hand moving up his chest to do exactly that. "You like it when I do this?"

Dref yelps and twists in pleasure and when he's recovered, nods a little, all embarrassed about it.

"Huh," Travis says thoughtfully, running his palm over Dref's naked chest. "Good to know."

-

Next sunrise finds them making out in the captain’s quarters again, with Dref’s hopped up on the desk with his legs wrapped around Travis’s waist, but this time Travis isn’t initiating anything, he’s just… patiently waiting. About ten minutes in, Dref starts to get antsy beneath Travis’s kisses, tugging on his shirt impatiently.

Travis pulls back and looks at Dref with mock-concern. “Something the matter?” he teases, because he knows _exactly_ what’s the matter.

Dref tugs on Travis’s shirt again. “Off.”

“I’m sorry, what’s that?” Travis says, barely suppressing his smirk.

“I w-want,” Dref says through a stuttered exhale, “you to t-t-take off your s-s-shirt.”

Travis grins wolfishly and does as he’s asked, stepping back between Dref’s open legs when he's done. “And what else do you want?” he prompts.

Dref’s hands immediately start exploring Travis’s chest and it’s very flattering and very distracting so it’s not until a couple more layers have been removed and Travis’s hand is stroking Dref’s dick through his underclothes that he remembers that he had a plan.

With restraint, Travis retreats. Dref whines and instinctively leans forward, trying to chase Travis’s hand but Travis won’t be tempted; he holds his arm out of reach and tuts. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, “Not until you tell me what you want.”

Dref looks at him like a petulant child denied his plaything. Mortals are adorable. But, he’ll learn. Travis waits. In less than thirty seconds, Dref has admitted defeat and is whispering too quietly for his human form to hear.

“I’m sorry,” Travis says, leaning down to hear him, his mouth only inches away from Dref’s. “What was that?”

“I s-said that I w-w-want you to t-t-touch my-”

“Yes?” Travis prompts at Dref’s sudden hesitation. His mind runs through the possible innuendos - dick, cock, shaft - and he’s turned on by every possibility.

“P-p-penis.”

Of course he uses the official textbook term. Of course. Travis closes his eyes and boldly pretends that he didn’t get a massive boner from the sound of the medical term on Dref’s tongue.

A second later, he realises that Dref probably felt the sudden movement against his thigh. And, hey, Travis was never really one for hiding his desires anyway.

“Can you,” Travis begs, probably looking as desperate as he feels, “say that again?”

Dref frowns in confusion. “P-p-penis?”

Travis groans. Why is he finding this so _hot_? WHY?! “The whole… thing. Please. The whole-”

“You like w-w-when I t-talk like t-that?”

“Uh-huh,” Travis says, closing his eyes and willing himself not to come in his pants. “Apparently so, yes. So please. Will you?”

Travis opens his eyes to see a shy smile on Dref’s face and it really doesn’t help the situation in his pants one bit.

“O-okay,” Dref says, and reaches to pull Travis flush against him with a newfound confidence. “P-p-please w-will you t-touch my p-penis.”

Travis groans in ecstasy and pulls their mouths together, and embarrassingly only lasts for five more minutes after that.

-

A week later when they’re making out, such a litany of filth falls from Dref’s lips that Travis literally has to stop stripping him to stare at his mouth in shock and wonder. Never, in his entire - very, very, long - life has Travis ever heard such dirty, filthy, proclamations of intent. He feels his entire body flush. His dick is rockhard. He suddenly can’t even _breathe_.

Before him, Dref sits butt-naked atop the desk armed with the cockiest smile he’s even seen. He’s so confident, so sure, so pleased with himself that he can wreck Travis so utterly.

Travis shakes his head, marvelling at the creature he bore before him. “Oh god,” he sighs in ecstasy, “what have I _done_?”


	3. Bureaucratic Nightmare - Dref/Gable/Travis - T - 2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings:  
> * implication of gross necromancy stuff, particularly defecation
> 
> written for [this](https://ospnkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1764.html?thread=106212#cmt106212) prompt on the kinkmeme - "The HR guy has never had to file a three person relationship request before. It causes a bureaucratic nightmare."
> 
> According to the episode's transcript, Tyler named this dude Overboard, but FYI before I knew that I was calling this dude Sandy after [Sandy Cohen from The O.C.](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/campaign_images/webdr05/2013/4/23/14/definitive-proof-sandy-cohen-was-the-best-tv-dad--1-21483-1366743342-3_big.jpg). I legit don't know why. But feel free to borrow my headcanon if you need to picture the HR guy as someone.

Overboard sighs wearily as he looks down at the relationship request form. _Travis, Travis, Travis, always playing pranks_ , he thinks with a shake of his head. 

He’s got to admit this is the funniest one he’s seen from Travis in a while. Usually it’s Spit and some kind of inanimate object. This is… different to say the least. This time, Travis has paired himself not only with the most blatant virgin on the ship but also with the most _terrifying_ person on the ship. That definitely would be an interesting dynamic… if it were not so clearly fiction.

Dref is one thing, but Travis has never gone as far as to pull Gable into his pranks before. Everyone knows you don’t mess with Gable. If they find out Travis has used their name to play yet another prank on Overboard The HR Guy then… 

Overboard drops the paper as an _excellent_ idea comes to mind. 

-

Overboard clears his throat as he approaches the daunting figure of Gable standing on the bow. Gable turns to look at him with a scowl that would normally make him tuck tail and run if he weren’t on a mission to Shut Travis Up For Once And For All. 

“What,” they say, more threat than question.

Overboard clears his throat again because he’s suddenly _really_ dry-mouthed. “Er,” he starts and then sees Gable’s impatient glare and spits out the rest - “Travisputinarelationshiprequestusingyourname.”

Gable raises an eyebrow, but otherwise looks unruffled. “Oh, he has? Interesting. With whom?” 

Overboard opens his mouth, flabbergasted, because he doesn’t know what he expected, but cool, casual, indifference, was definitely not it. 

Gable sighs at his ineptitude. “It is my understanding that a relationship request form requires two names to complete,” they say tiredly. “So it was my name and…?” Gable gestures in a way that implies Overboard really ought to be speaking now. “His…?”

“His,” Overboard squeaks. “But also Dref.”

“Hmmm,” they say, just as indifferent as they look out into the skies. “Interesting.”

Overboard hurriedly changes tact. “It’s just that the forms are only designed for two people, your grace, so-”

“I’ll speak with him.”

“Oh,” Overboard says with audible relief. “You will?” 

Overboard doesn’t get a confirmation because Gable is already marching across the deck towards the hold, their trenchcoat billowing out behind them.

 _Finally_ , Overboard thinks, _Travis will get his comeuppance._

-

“You submitted a relationship request form.”

Travis turns round with a sigh to see Gable gorgeously and dramatically silhouetted in the doorway of the pantry. “So?” he says and turns back to the crate of potatoes he had been so diligently counting. 

“So… why?” Gable asks, and Travis hears a nearly crate creak in protest as Gable perches against it. 

Travis throws his hands in the air, admitting defeat having lost count three times since this intrusion, and turns round to face Gable. “Because,” he explains.

“Because?”

“Because it’s what you _do_ ,” he says, showing his frustration at having to have this conversation by putting his hands firmly on his hips. 

“I’m sorry but that cannot _possibly_ be true,” Gable says, bemused. “You’ve been on his ship how long?”

“Six months or thereabouts,” he admits begrudgingly. 

“And you’re telling me that you input a relationship request form every time you have sexual relations with another crew member?”

“‘Sexual relations?’” Travis can’t help but mock.

“Shut up,” Gable says firmly, but their cheeks blush a little in a way which is utterly charming. “I know you’ve fooled around with other crewmates, did you submit a request for them?”

Travis sighs.

“Answer the question, Travis, or I will go get Dref.” 

Travis makes an strangled noise of protest. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation at all, but he especially doesn’t want it with Dref. Getting that little nervous wreck of a man into bed in the first place was a challenge, but the idea of talking to him about it afterwards sounds three levels past impossible. He doesn’t want to scare him off already. 

“Fine,” Travis says in defeat, and loudly and petulantly takes the crate next to Gable. “You got me. I don’t usually submit forms after a ‘roll in the hay’. The paperwork _I_ do is solely for comedic purposes, and only then because Overboard the HR guy is such a stickler for the rules that it would be rude _not_ to.”

“So I gather,” Gable says, unimpressed. “So why this time? Do you want to…” they draw in a deep breath that sounds to Travis very hopeful indeed, “Repeat the… _event_?”

“Mother of…” Travis buries his head in his hands to muffle the rest of his cursing, “You’re both so…” he flails trying to express his amused frustration at how shockingly naive his timeless being and necromancer are when it comes to sex. He takes a deep breath and tries again, “I guess I just wanted to know that it was a _possibility_ to repeat the fun times, yes, that’s true, but also maybe... to explore…” He trails off with an embarrassed wince; he can’t believe he’s about to say something so gross, “The other stuff,” he finishes lamely. “The relationship stuff.”

Gable stares back at him blankly.

“Ugh, whatever,” Travis says, shrugging off the blatant rejection and returning to the thrilling task of counting potatoes.

“No, hey, that’s not what I -” Gable faintly objects from behind him. “You just took me by surprise is all.”

Travis grunts and throws a rotten potato aside with far more force than it probably required. It bounces against the side of the pantry and sends the cat skittering out of the room with a shriek. 

“I, er,” Gable says, and Travis isn’t sure if he’s ever heard Gable stumble over words so much in his _life_. “I’m going to come back a bit later, I think.”

“You do that,” Travis bites, staring at the crates of potatoes with increasingly blurry eyes.

He waits until Gable’s footsteps have faded across the galley and out of earshot before he slides morosely to the floor and stays there.

-

“Travis wants to date us,” Gable says with shock, because despite the ten minutes it took to find Dref (in the shithouse with Orimar for some reason), this news is still Very Shocking. 

Dref looks flabbergasted as he looks between Orimar propped against the toilet and the open door where Gable now stands. His sleeve is rolled up. 

“Er,” Gable says, accessing the situation, at the same time Dref says, “I’m just-”

Then he makes a gesture that Gable really doesn’t want to understand and Gable grimaces as images of possible meanings flood their mind anyway. “You know,” they say, taking a step back, “I’m just gonna wait outside a minute.” 

Dref nods. Gable can’t close the door fast enough. 

A couple of minutes and many disgusting sounds later, Dref is wiping a towel across his forearm as he steps out of the cubicle. “Sorry, I h-had to m-m-make him eat something earlier a-and-”

Gable holds up a hand to cut him off. “I really do not want to know.” 

Dref, thankfully, seems to take this on board. He nods. Rolls down his sleeves.

Gable tilts their head towards the closed door. “Should we… move him?”

“Best g-give him a minute.”

Gable winces and their inner Travis definitely uses the word ‘gross’ but they are, of course, above such behaviour. “Alright. So... Travis?”

Dref blushes to the tips of his ears at even the implication of that night and Gable can’t even blame him. Travis is … _well_. It was very memorable. 

“How, uh, how did you c-come across this, er, information?” Dref asks, fiddling with his cuffs, as if Gable doesn’t notice he’s avoiding eye contact. 

“He filed a relationship request form.”

“Right,” Dref says, looking suddenly rather faint. He stumbles back against the door, as if he’s already forgotten what (or rather _who_ ) is behind it. “For-?” he gestures between the two of them, and then to the side and then back at them.

“For the three of us, yes. And when I asked him about it-”

“Y-y-you asked him about it?”

“Well, yes,” Gable says, unfazed. “And when I asked him about it he said he would like the opportunity to repeat the, uh, the fornification, but also… also he implied he would like the opportunity for… _more_.” Gable winces, annoyed at their own inability to convey something so important. “Oh, curses, I’m saying this all wrong. Travis said it much more eloquently. But the long and short of it is that he only filed that request so that we could explore - oh, darn it, that’s the word he used - _explore_ this thing between us-” and for lack of better description, repeats Dref’s hand gesture between the three of them.

“Oh,” Dref says.

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Gable says with frustration. “So what do we do?”

“I suppose,” he says, timidly cleaning his spectacles, “if that is w-what he w-wants then we let him e-e-explore,” he swallows nervously, still avoiding eye contact, as if Gable is actually going to fight him on this. 

“Do _you_ want?” they ask, stepping closer and stooping a little in an attempt to see Dref’s face. 

Dref shrugs.

Gable sighs and cups a finger under Dref’s chin, tilting his face to look at theirs for the first time in this entire conversation. 

“Do you _want_?” Gable repeats.

Slowly, nervously, Dref nods. Gable breathes a sigh of relief. And then, because they can’t resist, stoops a little further, just to leave a little peck on his open lips. 

-

The door to Overboard’s office slams open as an imposing figure steps through. 

“Orimar. Captain. Sir. H-how can I assist?” Overboard stutters in surprise as he hurries to his feet. 

Gable walks in behind the Captain and eerily, they both fold their arms simultaneously as they stare him down. “You can sign that request from Travis, Overboard, that’s what you can do. Captain’s orders,” Gable says, tilting their head at Orimar for confirmation, who just nods, once, very firmly.

Overboard opens and closes his mouth several times before managing to squeak, “The relationship request?”

“Yes, Overboard,” Gable says, closing their eyes as if every moment of this conversation is physically painful for them, “That request. Sign it.”

“It’s not…” he looks between the two of them, honestly afraid for his life. “A joke?”

“No,” Gable says, with a slight quirk of their lips that if Overboard wasn’t so terrified of might read as smug satisfaction. “It’s not. Sign it.”

“B-but the forms are only designed for two people, not three, I don’t know how to… There isn’t a system in place for three people, that is, your grace, it’s not-”

“Don’t make me ask three times, Overboard,” Gable says, and Overboard actually feels himself shrink back against the desk like a cornered animal.

Gable turns and leaves before Overboard can even find his voice and then Captain Orimar stares at him, as vacant and as deep as the sky, before he tilts his head menacingly like an order in itself, before he turns on his heel and follows. 

Overboard stares at the open door, still shaking from the confrontation, when he sees Dref emerge from behind the door skulk after them, hand in hand with the one and only Travis Matagot. 

Overboard takes a deep breath and stares down at the relationship request form that has been unchanged for a hundred and twenty years, and then at the meticulous filing system that has served generations of crewmates, organised both alphabetically and chronologically, and wonders if the Great Captain Orimar and his puppets realise that his blithe request will take poor Overboard literally years to unfuck. 

-

Travis sighs loudly and contently as he lies back on the bed, very much still naked. “Mmm…” he murmurs contently, pressing his nose into Dref’s mussed hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful that the HR guy is so incompetent.”

Gable groans and flings their arm around Travis as they flop beside him. “Overboard isn’t _incompetent._ I mean, he’s called _Overboard_ , not Underboard _-_ ”

“Yes, he is!” Travis argues. “The relationship request forms are _meant_ to be confidential but he went straight to you to tattletale.”

Gable scrunches their nose and Travis can feel the movement against his neck. It’s kinda cute. “Then shouldn’t you be _thankful_ that-”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying!” Travis says, throwing his arms wide. Dref groans when the movement jostles him. “If the HR guy-”

“-Overboard-” both Gable and Dref supply.

“-sure, if he hadn’t been so _incompetent_ then we wouldn’t be here right now, all sated and sweaty.”

Dref mumbles into his chest, “Then write him a thank you letter.”

“Oh!” Travis says, suddenly imbued with an idea. “Yes! We should write it _on_ the paperwork, that way he’ll be able to treasure it forever.”

“W-wouldn’t that… render it invalid?” Dref wonders aloud. “I d-don’t know even how he’s filing our request now that I think about it…” he says with a frown.

“Pish-posh,” Travis says, waving off Dref’s concerns. “Like that even matters. No one cares how paperwork is filed, honey, not even _Overboard_. Trust me, he _loves_ that we gave him a little challenge to work on. _Loves_ it. He’ll treasure our relationship request form forever, guaranteed.”


	4. Not Here - Gable/Travis - E - 2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-episode 38 because all the soft trable asmr killed me, spoilers for ep 26+
> 
> probably factually incorrect on multiple accounts but when have I ever cared
> 
> unbeta'd as per usual
> 
> warnings: death mention, blood, rough sex, ambiguous consent

It’s been a long and nostalgic night and when the sun rises it is both too late and far too soon. 

Jonnit scrambles for the door as soon at the first sign of the Goopening, but Gable stays because Gable always stays. Travis had been… different last night. Gentle, and open, and not making a lick of sense. Gable’s not sure if they’re ready for it to be over yet. 

Travis had been so blasé about Dref’s passing that Gable thought it hadn’t affected him but his midnight ramblings implied that it was quite the opposite. He kept speaking as if Dref was still alive, as if, despite his two hundred years on the Spéir, he didn’t quite understand death just yet. It was an insight that Gable hadn’t thought they would be afforded, and now that they had, the sight of him strained and yelling as his body transforms stirs a protective feeling in their chest. 

Travis lies, panting and naked, afterwards, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. His body is, thankfully, fully repaired. 

“That seemed...unpleasant,” Gable observes. 

“Uh huh,” Travis says, still struggling for breath. “Wheresjonnit?”

“Conscious. Scarpered at the first bone crunch.”

Travis nods. “Nthecaptain?”

Gable sighs, and not for the first time that night. “I’ve no idea. Disappeared almost as soon as he got here. As I told you… last night… four times,” Gable says pointendly. 

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Travis says, offended, and suddenly Very Travis again as he sits up on his elbows to glare at Gable, “Did my almost-dying _offend_ you? Was it at all _inconvenient_?”

“Hey, look, that’s not what I- And besides, that’s no way to thank me after I stayed up all night listening to your gibberish -”

“It was not _gibberish_. It made _perfect_ sense. You’re just too dense to understand the finer elements of my storytelling-”

“Oh so you _do_ remember last night?” Gable bites back. “Good to know because I-”

But whatever embarrassing moment they were about to tease Travis with suddenly becomes entirely irrelevant when he leans up and presses his lips firmly against theirs. The feeling is so foreign and so unexpected that Gable just sits there, transfixed, as he does so. 

Travis leans back, looking at Gable quizzically. “I’m sorry, is that not what we were doing?” 

“W-what?” Gable manages to say, still reeling from the kiss.

Travis indicates between them with a finger. “Last night. With all the sappy feelings and stuff. I thought we were just waiting for me to transform for the day so we could bone.”

“ _Bone_?”

“Yeah. Was that… not what was going on?”

“I…” Gable starts, then, “What?” and then, “Huh?”

“Oh,” Travis says, eyes averted. The damn protective instinct stirs in their chest again at the sight. Gable’s not used to hurting Travis because normally Travis can’t be hurt. 

Gable instinctively reaches out and grabs Travis’s arm. “Wait.”

“You _do_ want to bone?”

Gable closes their eyes and breathes out their frustration. “Would you please stop saying ‘bone’? Please, I beg you, just… give me a minute here. I am _so_ tired.” Gable takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of their nose, and tries to process this again. “So you’re saying… last night that you…”

“Saved all our lives, yes.”

“Travis-”

“That I _heroically-_ ”

“ _Travis-_ ” 

“That with my last breath, I-” 

“ _After_ that, you idiot. When you came here and you were saying those things-”

“About my heroism?”

“No, about _you_ ,” Gable says with a hint of frustration, because Travis clearly knows what they’re angling at and is refusing to show the slightest bit of vulnerability again. “About your past, and my past, and your past lovers…”

“I was trying to get into your pants, yes.”

Gable folds their arms. “So you were much more lucid than you let on.”

“Oh no I was definitely out of it,” he says with amusement. “I don’t even remember half the things I said. Solid gold, I’m sure. Words of wisdom to be immortalised-” Gable recalls them both crying about turtles at 2am and decides not to mention it - “And I assume it was brilliant enough that you fell in love with me because who wouldn’t in that situation, am I right? So I woke up wanting to fuck you. That’s, like… my lasting memory of last night. _Fuck. Gable_. In a sexy way,” he adds, “Not the usual way where I want you to fuck off.”

“Gee, thanks,” Gable mutters numbly. The word ‘fuck’ out of Travis’s mouth is having far more affect on their body than they anticipated, and Gable shuffles inconspicously to dampen any arousal. 

“Come on,” Travis whines, dragging the words out in an absolutely filthy manner. He throws his head back, elongating his naked body, still slick with sweat from the transformation. “I’m alive and horny and wanna celebrate. If you don’t wanna, I’ll go find someone who actually appreciates this fine offer.” 

Gable swallows and looks away, suddenly thirsty. It’s then that their eyes fall on a familiar sight. The spooky butlers may have removed the blood but they can’t remove the memory. “I’m not bedding you in the same room where Dref died.”

Travis sags and Gable briefly wonders if he’s actually started processing his death, until they turn back and to see Travis pouting, not mourning. He gestures vaguely to the spot where he died, “You can barely see-”

“No, Travis.”

Travis squints and it’s immediately suspicious. “But you _will_ fuck me?” he seeks to clarify. “Just not here?”

Gable swears under their breath as they realise, belatedly, that that’s more or less exactly what they said. “That’s not exactly-”

Travis has captured their lips again. Gable’s exasperated sigh is smothered on its release. Gable wants to be mad. They want to feel that familiar annoyance at the very least. But Travis’s lips are warm and urgent and inviting and as they start to move against their lips another, more dangerous, feeling takes root. Gable wants to _indulge_. 

It’s been years. It’s been more than years. But Gable raises their large palm to Travis’s soft hair. Travis moans and licks his tongue into their mouth. Gable lets Travis pull them down, until their bodies are pressed tight against each other. Gable feels a heat build in their groin. They _want_. 

“Yes,” Travis gasps and Gable doesn’t even realise to what until they see teeth marks on his neck and feel every inch of skin against theirs and realises that their passion had taken over sense. They had pushed Travis to his back and _ravished_ him, for lack of a better word. He doesn’t look offended though; a deep blush on his cheeks and his chest, bites and bruises along his body, spit and blood dripping from his grinning mouth. 

“Sorry, I-”

Travis grabs Gable’s open shirt and pulls them back down to him, swallowing their concerns with his mouth. Fine. Travis doesn’t mind. They both still _want_. But still…

“Not here,” Gable whispers.

Travis whines but before he can protest, Gable has him over their shoulder and is marching them across the deserted hallway and into the storage cupboard opposite. 

“Seriously Gable?! There was a _bed_ in there!”

“Shut up,” Gable murmurs, and miraculously Travis does. 

This is good. Dark. Cramped. The adrenaline-filled tryst it should be. Nothing meaningful can be attached to this. No room for ghosts. 

Gable’s shirt hangs from their shoulders, pulled apart by Travis’s urgent fingers, but neither of them have patience for the breeches, only loosened enough for the changeling’s curious fingers to wrap around their penis.

“Mmm…” Travis moans as he moves his hand teasingly against their genitalia. “Seems I’m not disappointed.”

Gable groans, whether annoyed at the comment or pleasured by the intimate touch, they’re not sure. “Exactly how many nights did you lie awake wondering what lay beneath by breeches?”

“Enough,” Travis says casually, before kicking a box out his way and falling to his knees to envelop it. 

Pleasure short-circuits their brain so it takes a minute for Gable to understand the words Travis is murmuring against their sensitive skin. He wants it _in_ him.

“Are you sure?” Gable says, still half-convinced this is a very lucid dream. “You’re still recovering and I’m…”

“Huge. Yes, I noticed. I want it in me,” Travis says, leaving no room for disagreement. “Trust me, I can take it.”

Briefly, Gable wonders what experience exactly over his two hundred years on Earth has prepared him for such a thing, and then they decide that they really don’t want to know. Is it… a Changeling thing? No. Gross. They really don’t want to know. 

“Okay,” Gable says, before leaning in and kissing him again, with such force that they trip over some boxes and topple into the adjacent wall.

Travis groans at the impact but before Gable can ask if he’s okay, he’s rubbing a certain part of his anatomy very purposefully against Gable’s. Or, trying to anyway, but the height difference is really hampering him. Gable leans down and scoops him up. Travis immediately gets with the program and wraps his legs around Gable’s waist, pushing their groins together as they rut against the wall.

With one too-enthusiastic movement, Gable is pushing at his entrance. Travis makes a sound so pornographic - his nails digging delightfully into their shoulders - that Gable decides enough is enough, and leans forward to test the tension. Travis is right though. His body is as open and warm now as his voice was last night and Gable can’t help but sink straight into it. 

Swears and moans and gasps sound from both of them as Gable slides in. Travis somehow takes inch after inch and when Gable’s fully seated, his face twists as if he’s somewhere between pleasure and pain. 

“Are you-?”

“Don’t even think of asking me if I’m okay,” Travis says and then gasps as he moves incrementally. “I’m… so good. Now turn off that dumb angel brain and ravish me again. I don’t want to walk right for a _week_.”

Gable frowns because that’s really not what they want to do but then they move their hips and suddenly their ‘dumb angel brain’ really does go offline and their body takes over once more. They pound into Travis until even the wall behind them starts to crack. Their lips are swollen from biting kisses. His fingernails scratch painfully against their back. Travis makes noises that are much too loud but when Gable tries to smother his moans with their hand but he just bites it and licks it and then sucks one finger into his mouth… 

It’s an embarrassingly short time before Gable is burying their neck into his shoulder and spilling their seed inside him with a muffled shout. Thankfully, Travis isn’t far behind, and Gable even manages to capture his final, filthy, moans in a sloppy kiss. 

They slump against each other, catching their breath.

“Daddy’s gonna be so disappointed in us.”

“Huh?” 

Travis tilts his head towards their surroundings as he carefully disentangles from Gable. Ah. Smashed boxes everywhere. Wooden bookshelves broken. A definite crack in the wall behind them. 

“The Broker can handle it,” Gable says, not having the brain power to calculate the damages they’re likely to be charged, as they attempt to lace their breeches back up with clumsy, slick fingers.

“Well,” Travis says, scooping to pick up some sort of fruit from a shattered crate, and tossing it casually in the air before catching it again. “Thanks for a good time. Be seeing you around.” 

He’s out the door, butt naked, before Gable even looks up from their breeches. Gable sighs and reaches for the remains of their shirt which had apparently found its way onto a pile of strewn bed linens. Their back twinges at the movement. Gable winces and reaches for the damage, surprised to find actual blood on their fingertips when they withdraw. They don’t normally bleed, but apparently a Changeling’s desperate fingernails can cut through their thick skin. Curious, they lick the blood of their fingertips. It tastes like nothing else ever has. 

Gable already feels the marks healing on their back, taking with them the only other evidence of this past night. Gable stares at the closed door, wondering why the notion of a blank slate fills them with the strangest sorrow. 


End file.
